


nor deaths neighborhood

by clockfight (babbyspanch)



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/clockfight
Summary: buzzfeed unsolved auFrancis has stopped editing the episodes and is having a lot of mixed feelings on that, but even more about Fitzjames.





	nor deaths neighborhood

**Author's Note:**

> FULL DISCLOSURE im plagiarizing myself....... copy and pasted a whole ass unsolved au and then edited for character and names.......... bc lowknees posted art so IM GUNNA POST THE FIC............ MY HERO FORGING THE WAY... BLAZING THE TRAIL
> 
> title is from barrett browning again.... im just FEELIN her for the boys lately

Some days Francis missed editing their channel.   
  
It had been nice to polish something up; change its tone into something solid all the way through instead of just a mishmash of moments caught all together through the impartial lense of a camera. Watching the feedback roll in after publishing was always a rush, and he still got a taste of that, but it wasn’t quite the same as it had been in the early days of the show; before James had become his co-host.   
  
James was part of the reason Francis stopped editing. Sure, it gave him more time to research for episodes, and the quality of the end product had gone up without question, but there was another reason Francis angled for the editing team so hard. Being forced to watch James and himself interact on screen was giving him fucking heartburn.   
  
He was losing sleep rewinding moments over and over, analyzing and re-analyzing body language between them. He forced himself to resist cutting every second he stared at James a little too long, every time the grin and laughter would burst out of him when James said something only passingly funny, at best.   
  
Francis was caught up in some big feelings for James and the last thing he needed was the Internet finding out.   
  
So, it became a compulsion. Check the footage, cut the embarrassing parts but not the funny things, re-watch the episode, edit again, watch, edit, watch, edit-- until eventually the episode was so sterile, and fact based he had to go back to one of the previous edits and just hope that his feelings weren’t plastered across his idiot face for the entire world to see.   
  
The cycle continued until one Thursday morning Francis tried to show up for filming with his shirt on backwards and spaced out at his desk for so long he missed the filming time completely and had to get apology fruit baskets for the crew. That was when he knew something had to change. He was sabotaging his own career. So, he handed over editing control and tried to handle this idiot crush on his own.   
  
It wasn’t going great.   
  
Francis dragged a hand across his face and groaned, leaning back in his chair. It was dark in the office and at some point, everyone had filtered out. He vaguely remembered a few goodbyes that he had responded to but he had been solidly lost for the last several hours trying to find more conspiracy cases to write about.   
  
He minimized his note of ideas and figured he’d run them past James tonight after the movie, which-- he checked the clock and swore-- he was almost late for.   
  
He jumped to his feet and threw on his coat, gathering his things and trying and failing to turn on his phone. It must have run out of charge without his noticing and now he’d have to plug it in during the drive to James’.

  
Grand.   
  
Francis locked up the office quickly and the winter breeze stung across his cheeks when he got outside. It didn’t get cold in LA, but the night still brought with it a temperature dip. Francis started his car and plugged his phone in quickly, hoping James hadn't messaged him to cancel on tonight.   
  
There was something about driving in a big city at night, watching the lights flash by and trickle into the dark pavement. The bright colours contrasting against black. Catching sight of a star or an airplane above every once in a while. It carries a kind of loneliness and connectedness at the same time that Francis struggled to properly articulate.   
  
The moon was full that night, hung low and bright in the sky. Francis turned up the radio a little, smiling softly. It was a nice night to see James.   
  
He saw his phone light up out of the corner of his eye and watched with raised eyebrows as the home screen filled with notifications instantly. They flew across his screen and left Francis confused for a moment before he remembered the new episode dropped already.   
  
There were a few messages from James peppered in between. Francis looked back at the road, glad it was well passed rush hour.   
  
The light in front of him turned green and he made the choice to drive to James’s house anyway. They didn’t live that far apart and if James had texted to cancel it wouldn’t ruin his night.   
  
The radio chattered low as Francis wound his way around the city drenched in dark, phone buzzing with notifications the whole time, until he pulled into James’s driveway and parked. He grabbed his phone and got out of the car, taking a moment to lean against the warm hood, breath in the night air and enjoy the moon.   
  
Francis opened his phone and got to James’s messages quickly, ignoring everything else.   
  
The messages just said, ‘I’m sorry, Francis, ‘I didn’t mean to’, ‘I asked them to edit it out’.   
  
Francis immediately froze. The one-eighty emotion shift from relaxed to the most on edge he had been in his life left his head spinning as he sucked in too-short breaths and tried to get his eyes to focus.   
  
What hadn’t they cut-- was he too obvious? Had someone noticed at last? Had James  _ known _ all this time? what did the editing team-- the notifications--   
  
He felt his knees go at the same time he registered movement in front of him and suddenly James was there. At the wrong height. Francis’s legs were very cold and had absolutely not grown since he last saw James. Who was trying to say something? To him.   
  
Francis blinked and manhandled himself back into a functioning place.   
  
“--is. Come on, darling.” 

They were kneeling in the driveway. 

James had his large, warm hands pressed into Francis’s shoulders just a little too hard. Francis sucked in a longer breath, focused on how the hands felt and the strange way James’s eyes were wrinkled.  
  
“I just--” His voice broke, rough against his throat, and he cleared his throat sharply and tried again, “I just got your messages? What happened?”  
  
James’s face closed off a little. Not in a way most people would notice, but Francis knew James inside and out, backwards and forwards, and the look on his face right now was not one Francis wanted to see.  
  
“Let’s go inside first, hm?” James asked, voice even and low.  
  
James helped Francis to his feet, double checked his car was locked, and then led him into the house, his hand stead and guiding Francis’s arm the whole time.  
  
Francis was led to the more comfortable of James’s two couches and settled in. James disappeared into the kitchen behind him and Francis could hear him banging around with various things before the familiar noise frying bread began.  
  
That was probably smart. Francis couldn’t quite remember if he had eaten that day.  
  
“How bad is it.” Francis asked, loud enough to be heard from the kitchen, voice still rough.  
  
James popped his head out of the kitchen and Francis twisted around to meet his eyes over the back of the couch. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Is it cancel the show bad?” Francis crossed his arms, “Or can this be fixed?”  
  
James looked at him for a moment and then exhaled, his face relaxing. “You haven’t watched it yet, have you.”  
  
“No, I- I forgot it even came out tonight.” Francis admitted, rubbing his face. “I think I’ve been... out of it lately.”  
  
“You don’t often forget.” James drummed his fingers on the wall. “I have to finish our food, but-- they aren’t going to cancel the show. I got the episode temporarily down already, don’t worry about that.” James smiled, solid and reassuring.  
  
Francis took his first solid breath since he read the texts.  
  
“Okay, That’s great, James. Good work.” Francis paused, gathered himself and asked. “Was it… Did I do something?”  
  
James took a full step toward Francis before he stopped, face confused. “No? No this was _all_ me. I’ll--” He glanced back into the kitchen. “Let me finish in there. I’ll tell you everything afterwards.”  
  
James smiled, something a little shaky in it, and turned back to the kitchen.  
  
Francis sat forward again, watching his reflection staring back at him in the darkened tv screen.  
  
This was one of the moments in life where something changed. Something monumental. The energy was heavy. Knowing James was just a room away, hearing him rummaging and existing just through the open doorway but both of them staying silent was… strange. Normally the air was always filled when they were around each other, electric and buzzing with thinly veiled joy and affection.  
  
This wasn’t bad, but it was... different. They had been quiet together before, of course. When you spent as much time together as the two of them did, silences were guaranteed. But the silences had always been comfortable, easy and warm.  
  
This silence made Francis distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
James was anxious. About them. Francis couldn’t even imagine what James could have done to pull this sort of reaction out of the internet and, more importantly, to feel this uncomfortable around Francis.  
  
Francis heard the stove turn off and plates being arranged. Every step from the kitchen took at least thirty years.  
  
Finally, James came into the room and sat carefully down beside Francis, settling the grilled cheese down on the coffee table in front of themm. They both sat stiff and didn’t look at each other.  
  
“It was supposed to be a joke.” James said, too loudly for the small room and the space around them. It filled up the quiet and James shifted guiltily. “That’s… That isn’t true. It wasn’t a joke. I-- I meant it. I _mean_ it.”  
  
Francis was relaxing enough that he could feel frustration creeping in.  
  
“What wasn’t a joke?” He asked, voice sharper than he meant it.  
  
James sighed and covered his eyes for a second. It looked like he was counting to ten. Francis didn’t touch the sandwiches. Neither did James. It’s quiet for a long time.  
  
“Alright.” James put his hand down and turned to face Francis completely. His gaze was determined and fixed. “Fine.”  
  
Francis raised his eyebrows.  
  
“So, I lied to you.” James still hadn’t broken eye contact. It was… intense to say the least. “Remember when you were alone in the basement?”  
  
Francis nodded, slowly, still caught up in James’s almost manic but focused energy.  
  
“You didn’t last the five minutes, you were hardly in there half that. I called it early because you sounded…” He drifted off and for the first time James’s eyes unfocused a little. Francis waited as long as he could.   
  
“James.”  
  
James didn’t say anything.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
James looked at the ceiling for so long Francis, briefly, glanced up too.  
  
“I said… that I cared about you too much to just listen to you like that.”  
  
Francis frowned. James’s eyes still hadn’t left the swirling designs in the plaster. “Why would that need to be edited out? The audience loves it when you go all soft, what's the big--?”  
  
“I didn’t say I _cared_.”  
  
Francis shut up and waited.  
  
“I said I loved you.”  
  
A noise escaped Francis without his permission

.   
James finally broke his staring contest and looked at Francis.

  
“Well that explains all the tweets, I suppose.” Francis cracked a small smile.

  
“And you say you still mean it?” Francis’s voice was light. Suddenly this whole thing is just a conversation. Just a talk with one of his favorite people in the whole world, who seemed to be a little in love with him.   
  
James noticed the shift and mirrored him, easing into the couch for the first time, echoing Francis’s small smile.   
  
“Yes. I have meant it a long time.” He said, and Francis’s chest flooded with warmth. This time he didn’t keep his grin in check.   
  
“Well. That’s good news to hear, Mr. Fitzjames. Because I feel quite the same for you.”     


They grinned at each other, bold and solid. Until something shifted and they leaned closer and where kissing instead, just as brightly as they had been grinning.    



End file.
